


In Pursuit of Liberty

by FullmetalChords



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Babies, Baby Names, F/M, Fluff, Fugitives, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anders is resting.”</p><p>The bass voice came from her other side, and she whirled around with a reflexive gasp to see the familiar-but-strange man kneeling at her side, looking with curiosity into the cradle. The figure was identical to her husband, but its eyes blazed with a cold, blue light that also cut jagged marks through its skin, its face and neck and arms.</p><p>“Justice,” Hawke whispered, swallowing down a shout as she willed her pulse to stop jumping. She’d become somewhat used to the spirit over the years, though the moments she was able to talk with it directly like this were incredibly rare. “What are you doing?”</p><p>----</p><p>Shortly after the birth of Anders and Hawke's twins, Justice decides it's time to meet the babies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Pursuit of Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at it again. Writing trash babyfic. In my head, this is set about a year after Hawke comes back from Skyhold. 
> 
> This is a Justice-positive fic, I promise. My Hawke and Justice don't share a romantic/sexual relationship the way she and Anders do (I headcanon Justice as pretty aggressively aro/ace, though not sex-repulsed), but she has a sort of rapport and respect for the spirit. Anders and Justice are also on much better terms than they ever were in Kirkwall, because they're rid of most of the stress that Kirkwall put them under.

Hawke had become used to the sound of rain drumming on the tin roof of the shack. It had become background noise as she stoked the fire in the morning, as she cleaned game in the afternoon, as she slept at night. It never stopped raining on the Storm Coast, which, she supposed, must be why they’d given this place the name.

 

She shifted on the straw mattress she shared with Anders, still feeling a bit restless even in the pitch-blackness of their cabin. She and Anders had made their way here a few months ago, meaning to stay for a week or two as they waited for Isabela to take them away to Rivain. But Isabela had been delayed, rival pirates and storms and treasure waiting in Orlais, and that week had stretched into months.

 

Hawke tried not to think about it too much, since the thought was only disappointing. She could have been in Rivain, enjoying the sunshine, but instead she was in dreary, wet Ferelden.

 

Her babies could have been born on the beach, if Isabela had been on time.

 

She heard a thin cry from the cradle beside her, just a bit of a fuss rather than a real cry for attention, and she grimaced, unwilling to open her eyes. The twins were only a few days old, and already she ached for the days when she’d been able to sleep through the night. “Anders,” Hawke murmured. “Can you check on them?”

 

Her husband did not reply. Hawke scowled, reaching across the bed to prod him awake – how was it fair that Anders should sleep so soundly? – but her hand only met with a cold, empty space.

 

The shock made her jerk upright, her eyes squinting open. “Anders?”

 

“Anders is resting.”

 

The bass voice came from her other side, and she whirled around with a reflexive gasp to see the familiar-but-strange man kneeling at her side, looking with curiosity into the cradle. The figure was identical to her husband, but its eyes blazed with a cold, blue light that also cut jagged marks through its skin, its face and neck and arms.

 

“Justice,” Hawke whispered, swallowing down a shout as she willed her pulse to stop jumping. She’d become somewhat used to the spirit over the years, though the moments she was able to talk with it directly like this were incredibly rare. “What are you doing?”

 

The spirit tilted its head as it considered her question, Anders’s blond hair falling to one side.

 

“Nothing that merits concern,” it said finally, voice rumbling low. “I wished to see Anders’s children with my own eyes.”

 

“Oh,” Hawke said, relaxing further. She reached to the cradle, taking yet another fond look at her little girls. She and Anders had discussed for months what to name their child – thinking, up until twins had appeared, that they would be having only one baby. Little Johanna, named for Anders’s mother, was sleeping soundly, undeterred by her sister’s fist resting against her face. Their second daughter – the surprise – had been born with quite a pair of lungs on her, wailing like she wanted to punish her parents for overlooking her existence. A few days had passed, and neither Anders nor Hawke had yet agreed on what name to give her.

 

“Haven’t you seen them?” she quietly asked the Fade spirit kneeling at her daughters’ cradle. She wasn’t afraid of Justice or what it might do to the babies, though she was curious about its presence. Normally, Justice only emerged like this in times of stress and crisis. “I know you see everything he does.”

 

“I do,” Justice agreed. “But it is… different. Anders is overwhelmed by his love for these small children; it filters the way he sees them. I suppose I only wished to understand what he feels.” He reached into the cradle, cracked blue fingers smoothing a wrinkle in Johanna’s blanket. “They are very fragile,” it said softly.

 

“Most mortals are,” Hawke said drily, rearranging her pillows so she could sit up. “I remember you telling me that once.”

 

“But they…” Justice blinked, the bluish light flickering in the room at it did so. “They are very small,” it said, pulling its hand back sharply, fingers forming a fist that Justice pressed to its mouth. “I wish to know them, but I do not wish to harm them.”

 

Something clicked for her then. “Don’t be afraid,” Hawke said, resting her hand on Justice’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to hurt them.”

 

“Justice does not _fear_ anything,” the spirit said sharply. “That is a vice I will never give myself over to. I am… merely cautious.”

 

Hawke paused for a moment to consider. “Justice,” she said, making the spirit’s fiery gaze turn to her. “Far as I’m concerned, you helped make these babies. You don’t have to keep your distance from them.” One of the babies started fussing again, and Hawke reached into the cradle to soothe her. “Look, consult Anders about it, I’m sure he isn’t worried either – oh, come here,” she cooed when her ministrations did nothing to calm the crying baby. “Come here, Lady Screams-A-Lot.”

 

She lifted the nameless child from the crib, rocking her back and forth as she shushed her. “You’re going to wake your sister,” she said, trying to keep her voice soothing even as the baby wailed. “What’s the matter? Bad dreams? You hungry?”

 

The mattress sunk beside her, and she saw Justice sitting beside her, looking at the pair of them. The spirit silently watched her try to rock the hiccupping baby back to sleep, its shoulders hunched while its fists dug into the blankets.

 

“I did not ‘help make’ Anders’s children,” Justice said sullenly over the baby’s cries. “I am not… that is… I…” It might have been funnier to see the spirit get so flustered, if Hawke hadn’t been trying to calm her daughter before she woke the other. “Anders and I are part of one another,” Justice continued, “but there is an ebb and flow. I do not intrude on his private moments with you. I was not… _present_ … when you conceived these children. Spirits like myself do not have this miraculous ability to create life, the way mortals do.”

 

It was a lovely speech, what little Hawke could hear of it over her daughter's wailing. “Fine,” she said, starting to feel frazzled as the baby refused to be soothed. “Fine, so you’re not their father, but you… your… _Fade_ thing. Spirit healing or whatever. Anders and I know that conceiving with the Taint should be all but impossible, and yet…” She gestured between both her children, their existence speaking for itself. “We can’t be sure, but he thinks that you had something to do with, well, evening the odds a little.”

 

It was, of course, at that moment that Johanna started to stir as well, her cries joining her sister’s in a high-pitched, grating chorus. Hawke groaned, exasperated. “Here,” she said in frustration, “take Screams-A-Lot while I calm down Jo.”

 

And before the spirit could protest, or before she could properly process what she was doing, she’d shoved the sobbing baby into the Fade spirit’s arms, reaching into the cradle to collect the other. It had been like this every night, since they were born. One started crying, which woke up the other one. One needed to be fed, another needed to be changed, both of them refused to sleep on the same schedule. They were barely a week old, and already Hawke felt more exhausted than she’d been fighting the Arishok.

 

Johanna, thankfully, settled down quickly enough, especially once Hawke had yanked up her shirt and let Jo latch onto her breast. Soon, the room was blissfully quiet, only the sound of Jo’s quiet suckling filling the air.

 

Wait… how had it gotten quiet so quickly?

 

Hawke turned to look at Justice, who was holding her other daughter gingerly – Anders must have explained, through their strange telepathy, to elevate the baby’s head. And Lady Screams (Maker, they needed to come up with a proper name soon) was as still and calm as Hawke had ever seen her, looking peacefully up at Justice’s face as she gripped one of its glowing fingers. She supposed the little one must have been comforted by the fact that this spirit wore her father’s face and held his scent.

 

Justice was wide-eyed, in awe, as it held the child, and Hawke bit back a grin at the sight. It was certainly surprising, how calm she felt watching them together. She’d seen Justice in action; seen the spirit tear a Templar’s head from his body with its bare hands, blood coating its face, roaring about letting corrupt cities burn. Yet seeing it now, with the baby… the spirit couldn’t have been more gentle.

 

“There you go,” she told Justice. “You’re doing well enough.” One of Johanna’s tiny hands came to rest on her breast, and she smiled down at the baby, a warmth suffusing her.

 

“She is very small,” she heard Justice say, as quietly and reverently as she’d heard the spirit say anything, and she turned her smile in its direction in turn.

 

“She won’t be forever.”

 

“Yes.” Justice waggled its finger experimentally, but the baby was still latched on tight, squinting up at it through the blinding light of the Fade. The spirit’s face crumpled into something of a bittersweet smile – the same expression she’d seen on Anders’s face so often.

 

“There is so much injustice in this world,” Justice said softly, still not tearing its eyes from the child. “So many people are in pain, so many suffer needlessly. I cannot help but see injustice, everywhere I go. But I often forget… that even with all its wrongs, this world can be beautiful, too.”

 

Hawke felt her heart swell at the spirit’s words, carefully inching closer to him while trying not to jostle Johanna. “Anders and I do make some beautiful babies, don’t we?” she said, looking at both her children. Dark peach fuzz decorated both their heads; round cheeks, bow-shaped mouths, Anders’s whiskey-amber eyes. They were nearly identical, but for a mole on Jo’s forehead.

 

“These children are so innocent,” Justice said, flexing its finger in the infant’s grip. “They do not know fear, or pride, or despair. They have never known injustice.” The spirit straightened its back, looking Hawke in the eye. “I will never allow them to.”

 

Hawke smiled warmly, remembering Anders’s similar vow to her, the day the twins were born. _No Templar will take our children from us, love,_ he’d said, tears streaming down his face as he clutched Johanna tightly. _I’ll die before I let that happen._

 

“I know,” she said, nudging the spirit’s leg with her toe. “Thank you.”

 

Johanna’s mouth went slack around her nipple, and she peered down, realizing the baby was nodding off again. She picked the baby up, resting her against her shoulder to pat her back gently, and a tiny burp escaped the baby’s mouth before she finally went still, snuggling against Hawke’s shoulder. She pressed a kiss to Johanna’s small head, inhaling the scent of her, holding this tiny bundle of warmth close as she focused on their vow.

 

These children… they could never replace the family she’d lost in Kirkwall, or the friends that had abandoned her. But it focused her, reminding her that she and Anders were not only working for the present generation. Everything they’d done – liberating the Circles, fighting to keep mages free – was also for the future. _We’ll make a world where our children can be mages and free._ Anders had promised her that, years ago, and having these little girls to fight for only made that promise more real to her.

 

The four of them would remain together and free, at all costs.

 

“Liberty.”

 

Hawke nodded, feeling a bit drowsy. Then she came back to herself, remembering she still held Johanna.

 

“What’s that, Justice?”

 

Justice nodded to the baby in its arms, now dozing peacefully. “You still seek a name for this child, correct? I knew many spirits of Freedom, in the Fade. This child… I sense that same ideal in her.”

 

Hawke frowned, her forehead creasing. “You… think me and Anders should name our daughter ‘Liberty’?”

 

“It is fitting,” Justice insisted. “She is strong. She speaks her mind. She will not allow anything to imprison her.” It tucked the blanket back around the sleeping infant, where she’d kicked it loose in her earlier squalling.

 

Hawke chuckled. “Well, can’t argue with that, I suppose.” She mulled it over. _Liberty_. Johanna was named after Anders’s mother; he’d wanted to honor the first person who’d loved him, the woman he’d been taken from so cruelly when he was dragged to the Circle as a child. He had suggested naming the other for Bethany or Leandra, but Hawke had resisted. Much as she missed her mother and sister, she wanted a clean break for this next generation of the Hawke family. She didn’t need to name her daughter after either of them to remember them, after all.

 

It seemed a bit strange to name a child after a virtue; it seemed a lot to live up to. Then again, she _was_ getting this advice from a spirit of Justice. And it felt fitting, somehow… ever since she’d met Anders, freedom had been a priority for the two of them. Freedom for mages. Freedom from tyranny. Freedom to live their lives the way they wanted to, without those restraining labels of “Champion” and “abomination”.

 

“Liberty,” she mused to herself, aloud, feeling the word roll off her tongue. Liberty Hawke. Liberty and Johanna. One name to connect them to their past, and another to look forward to the future.

 

She smiled over at Justice. “I’ll ask Anders what he thinks,” she told the spirit, shifting Johanna from her shoulder to move her back to the cradle. “But I like it.”

 

“It is a sight better than ‘Lady Screams-A-Lot Hawke,’” the man beside her agreed, his voice suddenly a soft baritone, and she jumped, startled at the sudden change-over.

 

“There you are,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Anders, who’d settled back into his own skin, the blue cracks fading from his skin and the light in his eyes dimming. “Thought you’d get out of baby duty for a night, did you? Not a chance.” She carefully laid Johanna back into the cradle, doing her best not to jostle or disturb the child, now that she was sleeping.

 

“Justice wanted to meet them,” Anders said, though he sounded apologetic. “He sort of… shoved me aside so he could get a good look.” He stroked little Liberty’s cheek – Maker, he was handsome when he smiled like that, looking so happy he might burst – before getting to his own feet, laying Liberty beside her sister. The twin girls leaned into each other’s warmth, Jo’s hand resting by Libby’s head, fitting together like they had since before they were born. And Hawke leaned against Anders, his arm around her shoulder and his lips on her forehead, as they gazed at their children together.

 

 _Their children_. Even now, it was incredible to think that she and Anders had created these beautiful little girls together. Hawke was no mage, but it still seemed nothing short of magic to her, sometimes.

 

“So,” Hawke said, pulling away and raising an eyebrow at her husband, “that whole time Justice was here, you were…?”

 

“…Taking a nap,” he admitted sheepishly.

 

Hawke scoffed, taking him by the hand and pulling him over to the bed. “Well, at least you admit it.”

 

They settled in their bed, side by side, noses nearly touching as Hawke readjusted the pillows. She reached over, brushing a few strands of Anders’s messy blond hair back.

 

“I love you,” she said in a whisper, so as to not wake up their newly-sleeping babies. “I love Justice. I love our children.”

 

“Mmm,” Anders said sleepily in reply. “Me too, love. Let’s go somewhere warm soon.”

 

Hawke made a noise of agreement, yawning before pulling their blankets closer around them, falling asleep almost instantly.

 

They ought to sleep while they could, before the babies woke again.

**Author's Note:**

> This absolutely started as an idle thought of, "Are Anders and Hawke hippie enough to name their kids the same way you'd name a Fade spirit?" And 2.5k later... :P
> 
> Hit me up at phoenixrei.tumblr.com!


End file.
